


Lost Dimension

by claudiacarranza



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, From RP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:01:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudiacarranza/pseuds/claudiacarranza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from RP on the MUSH: Lost Dimension. All RP logs posted with permission from all players. Edits to occur when 'Author' has time to reread for typos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Dimension

Tumbling buildings lean over this place where two streets meet. Down one street the sidewalks are overhung with verandas, and run-down stores are prevalent. The other is marked by worn tenements. From the occasional window clothes hang out to dry. Voices in different tongues echo, but few people walk the tired-looking sidewalks. A single dusty rose tree stands in the very center, undisturbed by the passage of cars, although some vehicles do move here...some under their own power, some drawn by horses or other beasts. From the roof of the veranda on the corner hands a swinging wooden sign, squeaking with the wind that seems drawn inward to this place. 'The Heart Inn' it reads, in English, with a cut-out of a broken heart that can be seen from both directions. From above the sun's heat beats down, reflecting from the roads and threatening to wear the soul by day, whilst the nights are desperate with chill.

Street lights are on, burning the oil as it were, in whatever form that it may take. After nightfall, that's when life for a particular street urchin begins. He's dressed in dark clothes; black and green stylized leather, giving him the chance to blend in with most surroundings. With apple in hand, he's moving slowly through the side alleys, as graceful as a feline, blue-green eyes searching the shadows for anything that can help with his evening. Hiding spots, places where new marks can be found, the like.

Stepping out of the darkness near the Inn, he takes a bite of the ever dwindling apple in hand before the decision is made. Crossing the street, he starts to make his way towards the establishment.

 

There's the obligatory drunkerd sitting propped up against the side of the building by the tavern's door. One leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out before him, the old man slumps, shoulders hanging low, head bowed so that his stingy white-blonde hair curtains his face. He's unremarkable save that for a white-haired old man, his arms are well-muscled and his shoulders a broad. A tattered cloth that might have been red once upon a time clutched at a broken pauldron and is draped over his lap haphazardly, upon which rests a sword. It's far too finely wrought for a drunk old man in the torn and battered remains of what might have been resplendid armor. But the sword has seen better days, and appears rust-covered beneath all the grime of dirt and years.

Child... Old drunk... And then there's the woman who walks out of the Inn itself. Black leather from head to toe sans the cut outs in the sides that show creamy skin. Long red hair falls in thick waves to her waist. A complete contradiction to the city itself, she seems perfectly put together. Not even a smudge in that red lipstick.

Stopping just outside the doors, she stretches. Eyes, red irises with black pupils, take in the surrounding area. She feels better after a good night's sleep. And now it's time to hunt. Anyone with any magic sensitivity will feel that dark, black magic rise up within her and as she smiles, turning that succubus allure on full force, the hint of fangs show.

A mark.

A mark!

Some guy, sitting out. Easy enough to roll. Here he is, in his youth. He's wiry, strong, and smart. Above all, smart. Doesn't matter what street. Doesn't matter where.

Padding around to the side, the young man tosses the now finished apple core to the side and makes to look non-chalant. Unassuming. Nothing to see here, but...

There's the thought of a nudge to the drunk with a boot, but looking around again, there's a different idea. It's more of a shove and grab for whatever pouch that can be found on the down and out man that'll be attempted.

The appearance of Satana does gain the young man's attention, but! But! There's something to be gained-- are those fangs?

 

The old man not only fails to budge at the shove from the young would-be thief, his left hand comes up, scar-covered, seeking to clasp about the youth's wrist in a vice-like grip. About to just fling the boy away, that smell of magic, heady rush of the succubus' allure, has Thor lifting his head and turning to look tiredly at the woman. His one good eye focuses clear and strong upon the woman's countance.

Fangs? What cute things his minds seeks to build to attempt to torture him with.

 

The scuffle is what draws Satana's attention. An easy meal.

Striding over, the demoness tilts her head ever so faintly. "Picking on children... Tsk." Even demons have limits! "Why don't I give you someone else to play with?" This is all directed at the old man in a voice that's a silky purr.

Her eyes flit to the boy and a brow arches. "I'd make sure your next target is passed out."

His hand is grabbed! Steel vise, and he can feel the bones rub in his wrist. Shifting around in an effort to lessen the pressure, he's ready to try and figure out how to get the guy to release him. "Release me!" is called out, and there's a tone and timbre to it that might bely the actual age of this kid. There's a moment, however, when Thor lifts his head, and those pale blue eyes... they freeze him in place, his own blue-green eyes meeting his.

Yanking his hand away, now uncaring if it breaks in the process, he's trying to get loose, only to catch sight of...

Wow.

"He was. I wouldn't say he's the best actor in the world. Look at him!"

 

Picking on... children? Thor turns his gaze from Satana to Loki, without letting go of that wrist. But the Ancient Thunderer moves his arm with Loki, in an effort to keep bones from breaking in his grip. Thor tilts his head to one side, studying the boy. And then Thor laughs, low and dark in his throat. His hand opens suddenly, and with a sigh, Thor drops his head back against the wall, eye closing.

That tone is what causes Satana to freeze in her tracks. Red eyes snap back to the boy and her brows knit. "What the he--"

And then Thor leans his head back and she blinks. Not possible... Is it? She looks closer. Literally, she leans in and peers at him. "Well, I'll be damned." Yes. Quite probably, all things considered.

Her arms cross over her chest. "You've seen better days, ain't'cha, Thunder God?" She seems... satisfied with this.  
Ithe looks back at the boy and arches a brow, narrowing her eyes at him. "Who are you?"

"You could have broken it," the young man hisses and takes a ste!p back the moment he's released. The laughter, however, sends a chill up the back of his spine. Here...

A burst of light appears before his eyes, flashing out images, and it brings a scream from his throat, his hands reaching to his eyes in that need to tear them from his skull. "Aaaaagh!"

Attention gained isn't always good attention, mind, and the scream does cause a few heads to turn. Not something he wants, however.. and lifting his face from his head, his voice is almost a feral snarl. "Leave me be."

Whipping his head around, there's a moment when he truly echoes the Trickster when he's angry. One can almost see the lightning within those eyes. It passes, however, and he stumbles backwards a step, two, before he catches himself. "Ser.. Ser..." Cat's got his tongue now?

 

Thor rolls the back of his head against the wall, eye opening to peer at Satana. He seems not at all like he knows who this woman is, even if he slides his gaze down her form then back up again.

"You have no idea, Hel-creature," rumbles Thor softly. And by that I mean it sounds like a distant thunderstorm, muted by a wall. Loki's hiss has Thor rolling his head back toward the youth again. And then Loki screams, and that flash of anger... so familiar looking... once more has the Thunderer snorting a bitter sort of laugh.

"Oh. This is delightful. Give me your worst, then, Brother-Mine. Let us see what new tortures my memory of you can create," says Thor, lips twisting up in a very unpleasant and almost uncharacterstic grimace of a smile.

Satana had actually taken a step forward when Loki had screamed only to stop herself. She eyes the boy before turning to hiss at those staring, allow her fangs to show and her eyes flare pure red.

When she returns her attention to Thor, it's with a smirk. "Address me properly, Prince of Asgard. I am the Queen of Hell. Not just a creature of--"

Blink. Wait.. It couldn't be. He's a child!

Turning her attention on the boy, her brows knit. "Loki?"

The lad straightens, and stares into the middle distance, far away from the pair, not looking at them. He's watching something else, something else that plays across his field of vision, and his lips move without an utterance, forming the words that Thor just uttered, 'Brother-Mine'.

But, he's not. He's Serrule... But that means 'Lock' in French. Lock. Serrule.

Lock?

Prince of Asgard?

The words are buzzing in his ear, and the moment his name is spoken, it's as if he's hit with another shock, and he utters another scream, wanting to tear his entire body apart now. Twisting around, he finally falls to the ground writhing for a moment before he's still. The sorcerer and the child... Loki.

"You! You killed me!" comes out as a indignant cry. "How could you? YOU? Of all people?" Satana, well.. it's her nature. But Thor? His brother?!

 

Thor watches impassively as Loki falls to the ground and writhes. His eyes blinks long and slow, waiting and watching as Loki grows still, then shouts at him, fumes.

"I did not see you, Loki. All was red and blood and Madness," whispers Thor, a dark sadness in his eye, and a resigned sense to his frame. It's as if he knew what Loki was going to say, but the knowing didn't do a thing to make it ache less.

Satana blinks, barely resisting the urge to rush forward. She stomps the emotion down and lifts her chin. She doesn't like the idea of him being in pain. And then she blinks. "This oaf killed you? Really? Last time I saw him, he was so certain that you'd change your ways he wouldn't lift that precious hammer of his against you?" She looks over at Thor. "I'm not sure whether to be impressed or kill you."

Weakness. There is nothing worse than weakness. Nothing Loki hates more than having to ask, no.. having to -beg- for help when he should be able to do something on his own. But, he can't. He simply can't do this.

He's trapped.

At one point, the Princeling will have to stop screaming at his brother and ask. The pain of rebirth, as it were, is excruciating, and he can't do this alone.

And there is Satana. A vision before his eyes and in his skull. Of beauty and cunning, and someone that he can both relax with and cannot... all at the same time. Queen of Hel. Ravishing and dangerous. Someone who is his and can never truly be his.

For a long moment, he lies, silent. Unmoving. Those who were staring are moving on again, not willing to become involved. Nope. Not at all!

Like flippng a switch, where there was once anger and pain, there comes the soft sound of need. A sound that is almost never heard. Curled up in his ball on the ground, in the dirt, he holds a hand out. Up.

"Help me."

Thor smiles wearily at Satana as she 'offers' the bliss of death.

"If only you could, little Queen. If only you could," he mutters softly, wistfully, while his brother lies in the street. That plantative whine, that sound of need, draws his attention. But the Thunderer is slow to react, torn between wanting to fly to his brother, the Loki he lvoes and misses, and wanting to refrain from touching him lest at the touch Loki crumbles to dust.

A growl and hiss comes from Satana. "Useless fool!," is spat at Thor as Satana moves over to Loki's side and kneels.

Taking his hand, she frowns slightly. "I..." And for the first time, emotions touches her voices her voice. She's concerned. Scared. Hesitant. "How do I help?" A look is given to Thor. "What's wrong with him?" And before he can answer, her attention is back on Loki. She frowns, peering closer at him. "His soul is... Blurry, for lack of a better word..."

 

Rejected by his brother. Again. (Then again, he's always thinking the worst about the motivations of his brother's actions, or inactions!)

Loki wants to scream to the heavens, but instead, he rolls over onto his arms and knees, hunched, his hands in fists. The moment of need, of HIS need, of weakness passes. A growl passes his lips again, but then he feels contact. A familiar touch. Oh thank goodness someone is smart enough!

His breathing comes in ragged gasps, and his head hangs, "Energy.. I need.." A focal point. Something he can grab on to with his magic, but that is so weak in this form that he needs that boost. That push.

"Well... aside from being dead," Thor starts, watching Loki twist in agony. That seems so familiar. Frowning, Thor finally sits up away from the wall, hand falling to grab that sword in his lap by the blade. Thor moves the sword away from himself, setting it carelessly down upon the ground near where he sat. And then, Thor reaches out to Loki, offering his hand, that crackle of power that lies just beneath the skin.

"A blurry soul, is the mark of a reborn soul. If only it were true, that this was a place untouch by Ragnarok, by the End of Things. But it's not. Neither of you are really here. It doesn't matter. Come, Brother. Let us find what comfort we can for the moment, before I remember myself and watch you crumble to dust once more," says Thor, drifting back and forth in his conversation.

A dangerous glint lights in Satana's eyes. Energy she can do. HAS done for Loki in her past when his body was too weak. "Hold on a just a moment." Yes, yes. The demoness has a gentle side. Point it out and you might not live long. She casts her eyes to Thor and then rolls them. "Oh, please. Get a grip on yourself. Some God you are. You think you're imagining us? Believe me... If you were hallucinating, I'd have either killed you or I'd like you. Make yourself useful."

A few words murmured in Latin and the demoness is gone in a flash of flame, leaving behind the lingering scent of brimstone.

In the distance, there's a scream that's suddenly silenced after only seconds.

The flame erupts just a few minutes later, once more, and Satana is back and kneeling next to Loki, holding a glowing green butterfly, light a delicate, between her fingers. "Open you mouth and swallow this." He's a child. She's NOT feeding it to him like she used to.

"Fool! I'm not dead! You can't kill me and expect that I'll stay dead!" is uttered sharply, in heaving gasps. "I've been watching for Ragnarok ever since I first heard word of it in Father's stories, always seeing it. Dreading it. Acting so it wouldn't come to pass." Loki in the young form draws a ragged breath, and his voice drops, making him sound like a little boy lost, "And now it's passed, and I can't see..." is almost whimpered.

He lies now quietly, feeling the hand that's offered more than seeing it. He can hear the scream in the distance, and for a moment, if he had the strength, he'd smile. Instead, he turns his head to take that bit of power, that light, delicate butterfly of human energy, while at the same time, he reaches for his brother's hand.

The moment he does that, Loki screams again and thrashes before he falls silent, flat on his back. Now, however, there is something of an overlay. Child. Adult.

Child. Adult.

Adult.

Loki.

There, the familiar form, his delicate features, sculpted face, wavy dark hair... long, nimble fingers... and he's done. Born again in the dust of a road in the middle of Crossroads.

"Yes. All of which you've said before," says Thor, watching the youthful Loki with the tilt of his head.

"Really. It all sounds more... final when you're a skull. Are you going to turn into a skull, Brother?" asks the Thunderer. Thor still watches, almost seeming ready to reach out and poke at loki with a finger, until his brother takes his hand, screams, dies, and returns as Adult!Loki. Thor seems mildly surprised by this, reaching out with his hand now to brush some hair from his brother's forehead. All the grace of a father... grandfather... whatever.

"Well. That's new," Thor comments, mind now recalling Satana's words to him before she left to fetch a butterfly. His eyes turn to her.

"That was a soul, you know. It's not very nice to take souls like that. I'm pretty sure you didn't ask permission. But, I don't think I'm going to resurrect whomever that was. It would probably undo what has been done for Loki so... Oh. Loki." Thor turns back to his brother, as if he had forgetten him for a moment. POke poke.

"Loki?" Poke.

"Are you dead yet?" Poke poke.

"Are you going to be a skull now? Will you keep your eyes closed this time?"

Satana frowns as Loki screams, cringing slightly. A small sniffle comes from her. "Loki..." His name is quietly whispered as she reaches out to touch his cheek.

And then there's Thor. Older, half blind, DUMBER, Thor. The demoness blinks, looking at the God as if he's stupid. "What the fuck is wrong with you?? Did you hit your head on something when you landed in this world? I could have sworn you were smarter than this last time we met." And that's saying something. "And quit poking him, you idiot!"

And then those red eyes turn back to Loki.

Poked?

There's a buzz in his ear, the sound of flies, gnats... conversation that wanders just outside his immediate range that is noise and nothing more. It's the poking that brings a hand up to swat the offending hand away.

His eyes open slowly, and there... there lies all that intelligence behind those eyes as he looks up into the skies, staring at the stars in the firmament. Loki lies there for a long moment before he blinks once, twice. His mind is fuzzy, facts escaping his note- but that's not an issue right now. He's here. He's now.

"I think... that worked." Slowly, the younger Princeling begins to sit up in the dusty street. "Thor, stop. If you want me to stare at you blankly, I will. But now isn't the time."

And... Satana. Loki turns his attention to the lovely demoness, and he smiles, raising a heavy, weak hand in her direction to touch her, to caress her cheek in return. "It worked." And even he sounds surprised. A slow smile begins to creep across his face, and he quirks his head before he struggles to his feet. "It worked. Huh."

Poked?

There's a buzz in his ear, the sound of flies, gnats... conversation that wanders just outside his immediate range that is noise and nothing more. It's the poking that brings a hand up to swat the offending hand away.

His eyes open slowly, and there... there lies all that intelligence behind those eyes as he looks up into the skies, staring at the dimly lit stars in the firmament. Loki lies there for a long moment before he blinks once, twice. His mind is fuzzy, facts escaping his note- but that's not an issue right now. He's here. He's now.

"I think... that worked." Slowly, the younger Princeling begins to sit up in the dusty street. "Thor, stop. If you want me to stare at you blankly, I will. But now isn't the time."

And... Satana. Loki turns his attention to the lovely demoness, and he smiles, raising a heavy, weak hand in her direction to touch her, to caress her cheek in return. "It worked." And even he sounds surprised. A slow smile begins to creep across his face, and he quirks his head before he struggles to his feet. "It worked. Huh."

 

Thor looks at Satana, and blinks.

"I caused Ragnarok and ended Time. I'm pretty sure that I hit my head in there somewhere," Thor comments to the demonness, liking her for the sheer fact that she's different. Even Clint, bless his heart, was too familiar. But Satana. So different, Thor almost grins faintly. And then Loki is sounding like Loki, and Thor looks down at his brother and sits back on his heels.

Silent a moment.

"....What worked?...." Thor asks, moving to his feet and getting a hand on Loki to help him up to his feet.

Satana's head tilts into the caress and she smiles warmly. "My King," is murmured softly. The term of affection falling easily from her lips. A brow quirks at him and she smirks. "You doubted my ability to bring you the energy you needed?" She seems amused.

And then she looks over at Thor, stands as Loki does, and stalks over to Thor. "You are so damn stupid. Look UP idiot! I don't know what it's like where -your- from... But on Earth, there's ALOT of star. And only one moon. Seriously. Pull your shit together."

 

"This," and Loki uses Thor's aid to gain his feet, and once up, begins to brush off the dust and dirt that collected during his time in the street. "Me. Here and now." Straightening, he cants his head and his eyes narrow. "Brother. I've reincarnated. The essence that was me was reborn. Grown. Waiting for a moment for my release." A laugh sounds now, something of a crowing exiting the sorceror. "And it worked."

Turning about to Satana, the smile is left over from his laugh, and he offers a shrug. "I..." No, no he didn't doubt that he could do it. He's a master sorceror. Nothing is beyond his grasp. Now, not even death. Life. Given the right tools... and that makes him laugh again.

Loki follows Satana to Thor, but he does stand at his brother's side. His voice cants low, "He's not had the benefit of what I've been given, my Queen. Give him the chance, and I think," that word rises in something of a singsong, "he'll be the Thor we know and love. After all, he -is- the King of Asgard now."

 

"Oh. Yes. Reborn. Splendid," says Thor, deadpan. Because this doesn't make sense, but he's just going to roll with it. And so, smiling as only Thor can smile, a smile that somehow looks false on his face since he hasn't smiled this way in so very long, Thor puts his hand on his brother's shoulder and turns his one good eye upon Satana, half hidden under his stingy white hair as it is.

"We should drink."


End file.
